Your brain runs all the protocols but in the end you’re just left with a dying man and it’s always your fault. It has to be your fault—that’s ...hat they pay you for. Sirens in the distance. I have Riley taped up – he’s clutching me and wheezing . . . I’m trying to get him into the recovery position without spilling his guts onto the lawn. “Jesus Boss,” he says . . . “Jesus Boss.” “It’s OK sarge. They’ll have you shipped in no time.” I love him. He’s a West Country man – unflappable – he knows. I look at it forone second, open the door, and curtsey. I can't help myself, it'sautomatic. Officer Jones, enters, what a 'cop name' and mother says,that "my sissy has basic gun training, Jezebel take out your gun, removethe shells and put it on the coffee table and do the rest of our guns."At this point Ismy has entered the living room. I take out my littlebut still deadly eight shot revolver. Show the officer that safety ison and take out the rounds. I quickly do the same for the other. More

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